


Things You Said

by dharmaavocado



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26733505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmaavocado/pseuds/dharmaavocado
Summary: Prompt fills for things you said meme.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi/CT-7567 | Rex, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Obi-Wan Kenobi/CT-7567 | Rex
Comments: 22
Kudos: 187





	1. Rex/Obi-Wan, things you said when you thought I was asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my ongoing project to get shorter work on ao3.
> 
> Original prompt: Rex/Obi-Wan and things you said when you thought I was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Rex/Obi-Wan and things you said when you thought I was asleep.

The headache that had been threatening for the last few hours bloomed to life behind his eyes. Obi-Wan pressed a knuckle to the bridge of his nose and reached for his tea, only to have it deftly plucked from his hand. 

Without looking up, he said, “Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn’t you give a trooper latrine duty for doing the same thing to you?” 

“I did,” Rex said. He was holding the cup out of reach. “But I’ve also slept in the past twenty-seven hours.” 

“Don’t exaggerate. It’s only been twenty-three hours.” 

Rex didn’t take the bait, instead gathering up all the pads, tucking them under his arm. “You need to sleep, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan glanced around the mess, but it was empty but for him and Rex and so there was no one to hear Rex’s slip. He hadn’t noticed the few other troopers leaving. Damn, he was tired. 

“Let me finish this report,” he said. “Anakin and I have a debriefing in the morning.” 

“No.” Rex urged him up, ignoring his protest as if Obi-Wan was an overtired youngling. “You’re going to sleep before you go crazy and die.” 

“That doesn’t happen.” 

“Tell that to Kix.” Rex grabbed the carafe of tea long since grown cold and Obi-Wan’s half-full mug, placing them into a bin for the cleaning droid to collect on its next round. He wasn’t wearing his armor, Obi-Wan belatedly notice, only his blacks. “Come on before Cody comes looking for you.” 

“Where is he?” he asked, trying not to startle at the hand Rex rested on his back, steering him through _The Negotiator’s_ halls. 

“Dealing with Skywalker and Tano.” Rex’s smile went sly. “We had a little competition to see which of you we got. I won.” 

“Lucky me,” he said, already anticipating Anakin’s complaints. Anakin still mildly resented the fact that Cody technically outranked him. 

“Be grateful I’ve saved you from at least one lecture.” Rex shifted the pads higher under his arm and punched in the code to Obi-Wan’s quarters and shoved him in. “Bed.” 

Obi-Wan briefly entertained arguing, but his eyes were hot and dry and it wasn’t worth the effort. He took off his boots, kicking them against the far wall, which earned him an amused eyebrow from Rex, and stripped to his bottom layer. 

“Are you staying?” he asked. Sometimes Rex did, if they were in an patch of empty space without any threat of attack. Neither one of them wanted a repeat of a surprise ambush that had Rex in nothing but his pants with blaster in hand, shouting orders into his comm as he exited Obi-Wan’s quarters. It took a solid week before Anakin’s eyebrows returned to their normal position. 

“Yes, so budge over.” 

Obi-Wan obligingly moved towards the wall, affording Rex his own small slice of mattress. When the war was over, _if_ the war was ever over, Obi-Wan was going to indulge in reserving a room at one of the finer hotels Coruscant offered with a bed large enough that neither he nor Rex were in any danger of falling over the edge. Or, he thought, wincing as Rex’s knee caught him in the back of his thigh, bruising one another. 

“Sorry,” Rex said. He slung an arm over Obi-Wan’s middle. 

“You have enough space?” Obi-Wan asked, back half of the question lost to a yawn. 

“No.” There was a wry note to Rex’s voice. “But I’ll be fine. You?” 

“Mm,” he agreed, words suddenly too much effort. Rex had a point about him needing sleep, damn him. 

Rex put off the heat of a small sun and it lulled Obi-Wan right to the edge of sleep, where he lingered, as Rex said softly, as if the words weren’t meant to be heard, “Please take care of yourself. I have plans for after the war that don’t include you going crazy and dying.” 

Obi-Wan roused himself enough to say, “You have plans for me?” 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Rex said, embarrassed, as if Obi-Wan didn’t have plans of his own. 

He covered Rex’s hand with his own. “I am,” he said, and then he did. 


	2. Cody/Rex/Obi-Wan things you said when you thought I was asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Codexwan and things you said when you thought I was asleep.
> 
> Fun fact: my first attempt to write this pairing.

Cody shucked his armor just inside the door. Base camp was quiet for the moment, the ceasefire holding. Talks were to begin in the morning as the Republic and what remained of the Umbaran leadership formalized Umbara’s surrender. It came too late, as everything did in this damned war, and those who lived had to bury those who didn’t. 

“Is he sleeping?” he asked Obi-Wan, who looked worse than the last time Cody had seen him. The shadows under his eyes had darkened and his was hair lank and mussed. He’d shed his top layers of tunics, and it was obvious he had lost more weight despite the heavy caloric diet Sawbones had him on. 

“For now,” Obi-Wan answered. 

Through the doorway Cody could make out the line of Rex’s back, blankets pushed around his knees in the humid air. 

“You should be sleeping, too.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, scalp pricking with dried sweat. In the morning, he’d drag Rex with him to the showers and pour caf into them both until they resembled something human. 

“So should you, if we’re throwing accusations around.” Obi-Wan pressed a knuckle to his left eye. “I don’t know what to say to him. He won’t talk to us.” 

Dogma had been remanded into custody a week ago, and since then Rex had seen to the burials for Hardcase and Waxer and all the men who died at each other’s hands. It was one thing to be shot down by the clankers, but for a brother to be behind the blaster—it was a violation of the worst kind, another bit of themselves this fucking war had taken. 

“Are you really expecting _Rex_ to talk about his feelings?” Cody said, eyebrows raised. 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said. “I see my mistake now.” 

“It’d be like you talking about your feelings.” 

He heard the faintest snort from the next room. 

“There’s no call to be like that.” Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. “This is my fault. I should have known something was wrong. I had my suspicions about Krell, but I didn’t th—” 

“Stop,” Cody said, because he had this argument with Rex and with himself, and he didn’t have the energy to have it a third time Obi-Wan. “It’s not your fault.” 

He’d read Rex’s reports and noted all the things Rex had been carefully not saying, and he still sent out Waxer’s squad with orders to keep an eye out for the enemy wearing trooper armor. 

“It is,” Obi-Wan said, gentle. “I'm the general. You’re my responsibility. Don’t argue. You know it’s true.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” He kicked Obi-Wan’s chair. “Come here.” 

Obi-Wan oblingingly stood so that Cody could pull him in, one hand on the back of Obi-Wan neck as Obi-Wan leaned on him. “I don’t know what to do,” Obi-Wan admitted quietly, hands settling on Cody’s waist. 

“He’ll be fine,” Cody said, because that much he knew to be true. “Give him time.” 

If Obi-Wan didn’t seem convinced, he at least didn’t argue, instead letting Cody take more of his weight, tension easing out of him until Cody thought he had fallen asleep right on his feet, which wouldn’t be the first time. He had just started to ease them towards Rex and the bed when the comm chimed and Obi-Wan roused himself. 

“I have a meeting with the council,” Obi-Wan explained. 

“Damage control?” 

“Among other things.” Obi-Wan reached for his discarded tunic, belting it into place with practiced motions. 

“Here,” Cody said, and combed his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair until he looked nearly presentable. “Come back when you’re done.” 

“Of course.” 

Cody caught him before he could turn away. “I mean it. I am not chasing you down because you thought to get in one more report.” He dropped his voice. “We both want you here.” 

Obi-Wan glanced to where Rex was still maintaining the pretense of sleep. “I’ll be back,” he promised, and touched two fingers to Cody’s jaw as he kissed him. “Get some rest. You look terrible.” 

“With all due respect,” Cody said, “fuck off.” 

The door closed on Obi-Wan’s smile, and Cody pulled off his boots and went to Rex. Umbaran mattress was larger than the standard GAR one, but Rex had sprawled in the middle of it, the selfish bastard. 

“I know you’re awake,” Cody said. “Shove over.” 

“Fuck you,” Rex said. 

Cody prodded him between the shoulder blades until Rex sat up, back against the wall and knees pulled to his chest. Cody sat next to him, their shoulders pressed together. 

“Want to tell me why you were pretending to sleep instead of actually sleeping?” he asked. 

“Needed a break from his sad eyes,” Rex said, hands hanging loose between his knees. 

The trick with Rex that Obi-Wan still hadn’t realized was to look for truth in the spaces of what he said. The more you pushed the more Rex dug his heels in, the stubborn prick. You had to wait him out, and Cody had been doing that since they were cadets. 

“It’s not his fault,” Rex finally said when Cody had nearly dozed off. 

“It’s not yours either.” He palmed the back of Rex’s head where the hair was starting to get long again. He would scrounge up a razor tomorrow and give Rex a nice buzz. Or maybe he’d have Obi-Wan do it. Give the two of them something else to focus on. 

“Maybe.” Rex leaned his head back into Cody’s grip. “Fives isn’t talking to me.” 

“He’ll come around,” Cody said, and hoped that was true sooner rather than later. You weren’t supposed to have favorites, but everyone knew that Echo and Fives, the two shinies they pulled from Rishi, were Rex’s. 

“I'm so tired,” Rex said quietly. 

“I know.” He tugged until Rex folded into him. “But you’re gonna be okay.” 

“Yeah,” Rex said, because maybe he knew how much Cody needed that to be true. “I’ll be fine.” 

They stretched back out on the bed, Rex on his back with Cody half-sprawled over him, and later when the mattress dipped, Cody roused himself to hear, “Is he all right?” 

“He takes on too much,” Rex said, hand steady on the back of his neck, “but he’ll be fine. I'm glad you came back.” 

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, settling in beside them, his hand settling between Cody’s shoulder blades, “I didn’t want to make you have to come find me.” 

“While I’m glad you’re almost talking about your feelings,” Cody said, “if you don’t go to sleep I will kill you both.” 

“Like you could,” Rex said. 

“Fucking watch me.” 

“We’ll save that for the morning,” Obi-Wan said, and kissed them both, and then, in a tangle of limbs and quiet, shuddering breaths, they slept. 


	3. Baze/Chirrut, things you said when we were dancing around each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original promot: Baze/Chirrut and things you said when we were dancing around each other

Baze knew what they said about him, with his large hands and large feet and larger ears, how his last growth left him slow and clumsy, stumbling through the forms that even the lowest initiates had mastered. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, having little illusions about himself, but he thought Chirrut at least would— 

No, that was uncharitable. He did not have context for the conversation, their peers clustered together with Chirrut in the center, only Chirrut’s exasperated cry of “I can’t even _see_ his stupid face!” and Baze hadn’t retreated so much as fled. He had no one to blame but himself. As the abbot was so fond of saying eavesdroppers only heard the bad and never the good. 

It stung, though. Chirrut was putting on muscle and settling easily into his body, while Baze was Baze, slow and deliberate and nowhere as handsome as Chirrut. But Chirrut never seemed to care about that before, and he didn’t know what changed. Or maybe nothing had, and Chirrut’s feelings had always been this way. 

Master Dechen, the head archivist, took one look at him, sighed, and sent him to the restoration room. Several of the tomes from the Third Wet Season needed their spines replaced. It was slow, delicate work, and one of the tasks Baze was best suited to. It also required all of his attention and kept his thoughts at bay. 

He was carefully stitching together the pages of Master N’gwan’s master thesis on the nature of attachments for social sentients when Chirrut slid in and said, quiet so as not to startle him, “You were supposed to meet me after evening prayers. Have you forgotten?” 

“No,” Baze said truthfully because he had taken notice of the time and chosen to remain here, down in the archives where Chirrut, with his screen reader and echo box, had no reason to venture. “This was more pressing.” 

Chirrut kept to the edge of the clean area where Baze worked. “But we had plans,” he said plaintive. 

Spoiled would be more accurate, and Baze blamed himself for indulging every one of Chirrut’s whims because Baze was greedy for that horrible gummy grin. 

“I have work.” The appendices were more damaged than the rest of the pages, and so Baze selected another thread to reinforce the edges. 

“Are you avoiding me?” Chirrut said, frowning now. 

“This may come as a surprise, but not everything I do revolves around you.” 

“You _are_ avoidingme.” 

“I am,” he said on a sigh, because it was easier than arguing. “And you’re making it very difficult.” 

Chirrut glared, eyes fixed around Baze’s chin because he still forgot about Baze’s new height. “Why are you avoiding me?” 

Baze was not an initiate. He was old enough to know better, which didn’t explain why he opened his mouth and the words “I thought to spare you from my stupid face” fell out. 

Chirrut went very still, which should not be surprising because Baze had seen him hold the same form for what seemed like hours, but around him Chirrut was always in motion. 

“You heard that,” Chirrut said. 

“I did,” Baze said, because it was too late to take the words back. 

“You didn’t hear what came before or after?” And then before Baze could answer, he said, “Of course you didn’t. You remembered what the abbot said about eavesdropping and felt ashamed, and you ran here where there is no chance of seeing me.” 

Chirrut knew him too well, and for the first time Baze was resentful of that, of giving Chirrut so much power over him. 

“I wasn’t spying on you,” Baze said. He set down the needle and thread as the work required a steady hand and he would prefer not to have to pull out the no doubt uneven stitches should he unwisely continue. “I was on my way to meet you when I overheard.” 

Chirrut nodded, hands fisted at his side, and if he were anyone else he would make an excuse and leave Baze to his self-pity. But Chirrut was as he had always been, which was far braver than Baze, because he tipped his chin up and said, “They were mocking me, not you.” 

“What?” Baze said. 

“For being blind. Metaphorically,” he added quickly before Baze could puff up with offense on Chirrut’s behalf. “ _Metaphorically_ blind about you.” 

“I don’t understand,” he said. 

Chirrut scowled. “I'm not like you. It takes me time to figure things out.” 

“No it doesn’t,” Baze said. “You’re always arguing with the masters.” 

Chirrut rolled his eyes, which Baze knew was for his benefit. “For fun and because they can be so easily distracted. But you’re the one who listens to the lectures and then goes off and thinks it over and comes back the next day with a properly cited thesis that sends them into an existential crisis for the next month. Master Swan still hasn’t recovered.” 

“Yes she has,” he said, feeling his ears start to burn.” 

“That’s not the point!” Chirrut was agitated now, hands gripping his red sash so tight his knuckles bled white. “You’re always thinking about everything in new ways and figuring it out and I’m not like that! I don’t know how you look at me!” 

Baze’s stomach dropped. Oh no. 

“Forget it,” he said, nearly pleading. “Please, it’s nothing but a—” 

“No,” Chirrut said firmly. “I won’t forget it because it’s not fair, Baze. It’s not fair that you figured this out first and look at me with your stupid face when you know I can’t look back and don’t tell me so I know, too.” Chirrut went to step forward but stopped, frowning down at the floor. “And it’s not fair that I won’t even risk your stupid old books right now to get my hands on you.” 

In the silence that followed, Baze gathered the pages together and set them back in their protective casing. The needle went back in its own holder so that the next unwary person would not prick themselves upon the point, and the thread neatly spooled and returned to its properly labeled container. He stripped off the gloves and replaced them in the drawer, and only when everything was set to rights did he round the table to where Chirrut was waiting, furious. 

“Baze?” Chirrut said. 

“Yes,” Baze said, and gently pried one of Chirrut’s hands loose from his sash. “I didn’t want to burden you with this.” 

“It’s not a burden,” Chirrut said, and with his free hand he cupped Baze’s face with a gentleness Baze would not have believed of him. “And your face is very stupid.” 

“So is yours.” 

“You like it,” Chirrut said, and rocked up onto his toes to kiss him, clumsy and off center until Baze carefully corrected him, and then it was clumsy and sweet. 

“I do,” he said when they parted. 

Chirrut smiled that terrible gummy smile, and said, “Master Dechen is going to come looking for us. Do you want to scandalize xir?” 

“I do not,” Baze said, but it was too late because Chirrut was kissing him again and Baze always indulged Chirrut even when he shouldn’t. 

Master Dechen was exasperated, not scandalized, and herded them out with a prim, “Not around the books, Malbus. Honestly.” 

And, his hand in Baze’s, Chirrut laughed as he dragged Baze out into the night. 

  



	4. Rex/Obi-Wan, things you said that I wasn't meant to hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Rex/Obi-Wan and things you said I wasn't meant to hear.
> 
> This may be one of the most self-indulgent things I've ever written.

Rex was already waiting outside Old Xua’s shop when Obi-Wan emerged, pack slung over his shoulder and hair tucked under the wrapping Rex insisted on, given Obi-Wan’s fair skin. 

“Get the power couplings?” he asked. 

“And the copper connectors.” Obi-Wan passed over the pack, which Rex strapped to the back of the hover bike. “How is Beru?” 

“Good. Farm made a profit this year. She sends her thanks for the bantha wool.” 

“It’s not as we don’t have any to spare,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Kid’s good, too,” Rex said, not for the first time wishing Obi-Wan and Owen would sort themselves out so he and Beru didn’t have to play go-between. “He’s learning to read. Beru said he’s a natural.” 

“Like his parents, then,” Obi-Wan said, only a little melancholy. Rex would take that over haunted. 

“We need to get moving to make it back before night.” Rex swung his leg over the bike and tossed Obi-Wan the spare goggles. 

Obi-Wan climbed on behind him, arms around his waist, and Rex revved the engine because he could. Right on cue Obi-Wan said, “And here I thought you didn’t need to compensate for anything.” 

Rex grinned and gunned it, causing Obi-Wan to bite out a filthy curse, grip gone tight as they flew over the sand. Rex remembered shouting profanities as Skywalker did the same thing once when Torrent was sent on a milkrun to a core world to win goodwill from the local regent. Tano had whooped loud enough Rex worried about hearing loss in his right ear. Not even a year later she would be gone and Skywalker’s fury would drag them all in like a star collapsing in on itself. 

But this—Tatooine’s dry, hot air whipping around him, Obi-Wan warm against his back—wasn’t so bad. It was more than he thought he’d have, in the years following the fall of the Republic. If he was being honest, it was more than he thought he’d ever have. 

“And to think,” Obi-Wan said when they made it back to their place, Rex stowing the bike back in the shed, “I actually believed you when you said you hated flying.” 

“This isn’t flying,” he said. 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and unloaded the packs. 

They fell into their routine, stowing everything in its proper places, Rex checking their moisture vaporator while Obi-Wan tended to the herd, both of them meeting at the stairs to shake the sand from their clothes as best they could before entering the house proper. They would still need sweep it out in the morning, but that was life in the desert. 

They set about preparing dinner. Rex had traded more wool for the sweet root vegetables that managed to thrive in the arid sand and a few bags of the tea imported Obi-Wan liked. He measured out enough water for one cup and poured into the kettle to boil. 

“You know,” he said as Obi-Wan sliced the vegetables, “I think I would remember our own wedding.” 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, the barest pause between slices, “you heard that.” 

“I did.” 

“Xua likes to assume.” Obi-Wan scrapped the vegetables into the pan and dug out the sweet oil that Rex liked that was nearly impossible to get this far from the Mid Rim. 

“She does,” Rex agreed, because Old Xua assumed many things, only half of which were true. “But you usually set her straight.” 

It was difficult to tell if the flush on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck was from the sun or embarrassment. Could go either way, but Rex would put credits on embarrassed. 

Obi-Wan placed the pan in the oven that tended to break every time a sandstorm blew through. “It’s easier if they think we’re—” 

“Married?” Rex said, and Obi-Wan nodded. 

That wasn’t untrue. It would help deflect suspicion. Jedi didn’t marry and clones certainly didn’t. Everyone knew that. It was another way to keep hidden and safe. 

But Rex knew Obi-Wan now, better than he did during the war, and he could hear what Obi-Wan was carefully not saying. 

“Never thought I’d have the chance to get married,” he said. _That’s not our decision to make_ , he told Cut a lifetime ago. “Never thought I’d want to.” 

“It wasn’t something available to me,” Obi-Wan said, careful. “The code didn’t allow it.” 

“But you want it,” Rex said. 

Obi-Wan smiled, wry and a little said. “Not then, no.” 

“But now?” 

“But now, yes.” 

“According to Tatooine tradition,” Rex said, sliding a hand into Obi-Wan’s hair, bleached by the sun, “we’ve shared of our food and of our water and made a house to shelter us. That should count.” 

“It does,” Obi-Wan said, and pulled him in close. “There won’t be a record of it.” 

“Never did care for bureaucracy.” 

“And we have yet to have our wedding night.” 

Rex bit down a smile. “Did you know I used to think your lines worked?” 

“They did work on you,” Obi-Wan pointed out, and kissed him before Rex could argue. 

Rex had yet to take this for granted, Obi-Wan’s mouth opening under his, Obi-Wan against him, both of them safe for the time being, and hoped he never would. There were so many things he would change if he could, decisions to unspool, mistakes to unravel, but this, well, this he would kill to keep. 

The kettle whistled, and Obi-Wan drew back. “Share of my water,” he murmured, a phrase they’ve heard more than once on Tatooine, “and eat of my harvest, and make a home of my home for us both.” 

“I’m not drinking your terrible tea,” Rex said. 

Obi-Wan smiled. “You’re under the mistaken impression I offered you any.” 

Rex snorted, but he took out the sugar they carefully rationed so Obi-Wan could add a quarter spoonful to his cup because Rex was, despite everything, a good husband. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can find me on [tumblr](https://dharmaavocado.tumblr.com/).


End file.
